Battle Scars
by Vorcha Girl
Summary: James Vega and Jane Shepard share a quiet moment on the eve of the battle for Earth.


_Disclaimer: I don't own Mass Effect_

 **A/N – This has been sitting unfinished on my computer for months, and I figured it was finally time for me to finish it off. It's a prequel to my post-war Shega oneshot Say Something, but it works pretty well as a standalone fic if you don't want to read what happens after the war. A big thank you to Duckydrawsart who drew the artwork of James for the fic - she is amazing!**

 **Anyway, this isn't smutty in the least – it's more wistful and sweet, with a twist of angst. Enjoy!**

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James lay with Shepard sleeping peacefully in the circle of his arms. Her head rested lightly on one of bicep, her face nestled against his chest as her long red hair trailed behind her on the pillow. At some stage during the night she'd flung one arm around his waist and curled the other between them, and her legs were tangled with his. Anyone who saw them lying like this could have been forgiven for thinking they were lovers instead of two friends who had fallen asleep together after a long day of work.

Jane Shepard was the most adorable woman James had ever met, and his friendship with her was simultaneously precious and painful. As a recruit, he had looked up to Commander Shepard and followed her career closely, but it wasn't until she knocked him flat in the docking bay during their first _dance_ that he started to feel something more for her. Her power and passion, coupled with her strength and fiery personality, stole his heart and before long he'd been hopelessly in love.

It wasn't an emotion he was all that familiar with either. Yeah, he enjoyed the company of women, but he'd never felt the pull or the romantic connection with any of them that he did with his Lola. Even his feelings for Treeya, who he'd been sure he was in love with, failed to come close to what he felt for the Commander.

At first he was determined to find a way to tell her how he felt, but after several failed attempts he realised things were never going to happen between them while the war was going on. Shepard needed soldiers and friends, not some lovesick fool running around after her. The knowledge that he would never be as important to her as she was to him hurt, but it was better than admitting how he felt and having her kick him off the Normandy.

So James had kept quiet and soldiered on. He had hidden the tremble in his hands when he helped her take off her armour after missions. He forced himself to chat and joke with other female members of the crew, desperately trying to feel the same spark with any of them. He had done everything he could to try and pretend that his feelings for Jane were those of a friend and nothing more.

But nothing worked.

And despite his attempts to keep things friendly there were moments when the line between their friendship blurred slightly; times when James was sure she felt the same as him. But alcohol was always involved so he forced himself to shrug them off as playful interludes. It was safer to forget about those moments when he felt the connection burning between them; to think of Shepard as a friend and nothing more.

Of course, it hadn't stopped him hoarding those memories like treasure, and somewhere deep down he clung to them as evidence that she felt like he did.

There had been the time that he and Shepard were doing tequila shots and she insisted on licking the salt off his hand instead of her own. Or the time she'd been so legless at Purgatory that James carried her back to the Normandy, only to have her drunkenly pull him into bed with her and kiss him before passing out. Or at her party on the Citadel when they'd crashed out on her bed together and he'd woken up the next morning to find her wrapped around him.

James' body clenched tightly as he remembered waking up to find her head nestled on his chest for the first time; he'd lain there and watched her sleep for close to an hour, memorising the feel of her body against his. Later, he almost told her that he loved her as they boarded the Normandy, but he chickened out at the last minute and once back on the ship they'd gone their separate ways, burying themselves in their work with no time to socialise or chat.

Until tonight when Jane called him up to her cabin for a quiet drink.

Now here he was, on the eve of their arrival in the Sol system and the Alliance's final attempt to take back Earth, holding the woman he loved and too shit scared to open his mouth and tell her how he felt. It was torture, but it was safer than risking his heart and having her stomp all over it.

"You're an idiot, Vega," he told himself as he curled around Shepard protectively and snuggled close. "There isn't any way a woman like this is ever going to love a man like you."

But his heart didn't listen.

Jane shifted against him and made a small sound, burrowing her head against his neck, her mouth brushing lightly against his tattoo. James froze and held his breath, his heart thumping hard as she stretched one arm out and accidentally knocked a stack of data pads and a digital photo frame to the floor. He winced at the noise, but Jane didn't wake; she only shifted again, nestling closer and mumbling something that sounded an awful lot like his name.

He tightened the arm he had around her waist and leaned his cheek against the side of her head, breathing in the vanilla scent of her hair. His heart ached, almost breaking, as she murmured and pressed her lips to his neck again. His body was reacting to her now, stirring and tightening at the feel of her lips and the soft sounds she was making, and with a will of iron James decided it was time to go before he did anything stupid like kiss her in her sleep or wake her up and confess his love.

He wasn't going to let himself become that sad creepy guy who stared at women while they slept and kissed them without their permission. No siree. Not him. He might have done the absolute stupidest thing in the world and fallen in love with his commanding officer, but he wouldn't cross any lines without her permission.

Moving slowly, James shifted her off him and tried to sit up, but Jane frowned and clutched his shirt with one hand, unwilling to let him go even in sleep. He grinned when her hand tightened and, reluctantly, he gently pried her fingers free and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He reached down to retrieve the items she'd knocked to the floor; a stack of data pads about the Alliance forces on earth that she must have been reading before he came up - predicted losses in the oncoming battle, maps of Earth and all of Anderson's mission reports.

He set them back on the bedside table and reached back down for the digital photo frame. It flickered on as his fingers tightened around it, and, curious about whose picture she kept beside her bed, he glanced at it.

It was him.

James stared at the picture and struggled to draw breath. He felt like he'd wandered into a twilight zone. Was he hallucinating? Had he finally gone around the bend? He blinked and looked at it again - it was definitely still a picture of him. He could even remember when she had taken it of him during her party on the Citadel - they'd all been laughing at something Garrus had said.

He set it down quickly and tried to stifle the hope stirring in his belly; Jane had a picture of him beside her bed.

 _It didn't necessary mean anything._

James swallowed hard and looked at her curled up on the bed in her BDUs. She looked so tiny and vulnerable, and before he could stop himself he reached down and ran his fingers through her hair. She stirred, rolling over and stretching as her eyes flickered open and her green orbs met his. A flash of warmth shot through them and she smiled and sat up, her eyes crinkling into a frown as she saw his face.

"Hey, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." She propped herself up against her pillows and yawned. "God knows I killed enough fish for at least one of them to have come back to take revenge."

James floundered and scrabbled for an excuse. "I, uh, I was just, you know, thinking about tomorrow," he almost cringed as the words tumbled out. This was the perfect time to tell her how he felt and he was rambling on about fighting. "It's going to be rough down there."

"Yeah." Jane nodded and slid back down against her pillows, her red hair framing her pale skin and deep green eyes. "But we'll make it."

She smiled, a gentle curve of the lips that sent a flutter of butterflies through his tummy.

"You seem pretty sure." Somehow his hand found hers and a small voice inside of him screamed for him to tell her that he'd seen the photo, to ask her what it meant, to confess to her that he felt the same way.

But the words stuck in his throat.

Jane looked up at him for a moment, opened her mouth as if to speak, and then closed it again and glanced away. "We will. I know we will. We have to, James. You and me-" Her voice drifted off and her hand tightened around his. "We'll be fine." She tugged him closer and met his eyes once more. "Will you stay with me tonight? I don't want to be alone and I could use a ... a friend."

 _A friend._

The words should have hit him hard, they should have hurt, but there was something about the way she hesitated before saying them and something in her eyes that made it sting a little less. James looked down and brushed her hair out of her face as he nodded.

"Yeah, I'll stay with you, Lola." He watched as her face relaxed and with what felt like a super human effort he gathered his nerves and added, "But after you kick the reapers to hell and the war is over, we're going to have to talk. You know, about _us_."

James held his breath, his heart hammering crazily in his chest as he waited for her to say something.

She didn't.

Disappointed, he said nothing more as he removed his boots and swung his legs back up on the bed. Jane slid into his arms and trembled against him, a tension running through her body that dulled his pain; she was nervous. Maybe it wasn't fair to bring this up the night before the showdown with the reapers, but he couldn't keep doing this with her if she didn't feel the same way as him; being so close to the woman he loved when he didn't know if she felt the same way was torture.

Jane sighed, a soft sound that slithered through the dark.

"I know," she breathed against his neck, tickling his skin. "We'll talk when it's all over. I promise. It's just ... it's complicated."

"I know," James murmured as he wrapped one arm around her tiny waist and held her to him. "And I'm happy to wait."

Jane sighed again, but this time it was a happier sound, relieved. "Thank you."

"Any time, Lola. My shoulders are broad." He wiggled them playfully and she snorted.

"I've noticed."

James let his eyes drift closed, shutting out the blanket of stars above and trying not to think about what he'd say to Jane when the war was over. There would be time enough for that tomorrow, for now he needed sleep.

"Good night, Jane," he whispered into the darkened room, her name pleasantly unfamiliar on his tongue.

She pressed closer and sighed again, a happy sound. "Good night, James."

A companionable silence descended, broken only by the gurgle of her empty fish tank and the soft hum of the Normandy's engines.

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 **A/N - the sequel to this is set after the war and is called _Say Something_! **


End file.
